


Dreams and Rebirth

by MissusChainsaw



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i don't really know what i'm doing, maybe this will go nowhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusChainsaw/pseuds/MissusChainsaw
Summary: The Junior Deputy kills the Seeds. Then what? What if they were displaced, to another place, another dimension where there is no cult, no Collapse? What happens then?This is based off a dream I had, so I'm sorry if it doesn't go anywhere.
Relationships: Jacob Seed/Original Female Character(s), John Seed/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Dreams and Rebirth

As John breathed his last breath, he heard a voice, a voice he had never heard before. “This is your second and last chance. Don’t waste it.” In the next blink, he was… somewhere else, standing in a few inches of snow with a red folder in his left hand. He glanced around, taking in the field of white and the fact that he was definitely not dressed for the weather, as it had been spring in Montana when he was last aware. In front of him are two houses, one much bigger than the other, and while looking at the biggest house he felt the strangest sense of peace, almost.

Then he heard shouting from inside the house. A back door slams as he sees the Junior Deputy enter the bigger house.

This was it, he thought to himself as she came closer and closer, wearing of all things an ugly Christmas sweater. He had no weapon, and in his mind, he heard an echo of what he heard only moments before. “Don’t waste it.” He then noticed what she held in her hands. It was an awful lot of plaid fabric, and she reached out to him with it. As he flinched, he felt it drape around his shoulders, and her long, cold fingers hold it closed in front of him. A… blanket?

Then, she spoke, and his whole world changed, with her slow, slightly southern drawl, as if she wasn’t in any hurry. **“Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you inside, okay?”** She spoke as if he was an animal to be spooked, and maybe he was, but those were his Words. His soulmate mark, which had always been grey, suddenly burst into pins and needles as they became a dark, almost blue black, hidden amongst all his tattoos. He looked down at the mark, peeking out from underneath his thin jacket, then back at her, mouth slightly agape.

 **“Where... have you been all my life?”** He asked, slightly accusatory and also helplessly, and a strange expression crossed over the young woman’s face. It looked like wonder, maybe? Or curiosity?

“We’ll talk about that in a second, it’s freezing out here. Won’t you come inside with me? I think you might know someone who just arrived about an hour ago.” She glances at the folder, still clutched in his left hand. “Her papers say Rachel, but she insists her name is Faith? You know her?” She smiles, and he can’t help but notice the perfect line of teeth behind chapped lips, the kind that only money can buy.

“Lead the way, miss…?” John replied, still thinking about the soul mark and how it made him want to follow anywhere she led.

She, taking his right hand and taking a few steps towards the house, quickly introduces herself. “Belladonna Bishop, at your service.” She continues, words quickly becoming faster paced than her slower words before, tone all business. “So, here’s the deal. If you’re like the others, you probably died not too long ago, and you’re going to be a little achy for a while. That’s normal, nothing to worry about, happened to me too. Goes away in a few hours, maybe a day.”

Now that she mentioned it, he did feel kind of sore, an all over body ache, like nothing he had felt before. “Did you say others? And that you died too?” He feels very confused, and needs more information about what, exactly, was happening here. He was irritated, to say the least, and still fighting the instinct to maim this woman, who apparently was not Anne Rook, junior deputy of Hope County.

“Yup.” She said, popping the ‘p’. “This is like a halfway house for the recently, you know, reborn.” They reach the back door, and she pushes it open with her foot, a wave of warmth emanating from the well-lit home, more impressive than the Duncan’s house in size.

“Reborn? You mean I actually died at the hands of Wrath?” He scuffs his nice shoes, wet with snow, on the provided welcome mat, and scowls.

She takes one look at his darkened expression, and takes her hand out of his. When had he started to hold it back? Belladonna then places it on his shoulder, and squeezes, harder than her thin frame suggests she could squeeze. “None of that, now, there are kids here. You may have been violent, maybe even evil in your previous life, but we don’t tolerate that here, you understand?” She looks him up and down- from his plane coat, mysteriously in one piece, to his leather shoes, currently soaked. “Ernie will want to see you, but for now, let’s get you settled.”

With that, she starts to walk up the nearby stairs. “I was violent, yes, but it was for the good of the Project, and was the will of the Father.” John protests, still following her like moth to a flame.

“Religious and violent? Always a dangerous combo.” She remarks neutrally as they make their way up the stairs and into a long hallway with many doors. Right next to the stairs is a door with the name Belladonna Bishop carved into the dark wood. She brushes the door with her fingers as she passes. “Stay out of my room, Markus.” She calls into the room, door slightly ajar now, as they pass. She peers at the doors, looking for something.

“Yes, we were religious, and yes we were violent. The Collapse was coming and we needed to save the sinners.” He is starting to get angry, but not as much or as quickly as he should be. It feels like his emotions are fragile and muted. Is this because he died?

She continues to walk, stopping in front of the fourth door on the left, right before the stairs leading to the third floor. “Should have known you’d be next to Faith. I’m assuming you’re John Seed, right? Jacob Seed’s room isn’t ready yet.” She gestures to the room across from them, a key in its handle and the faint sounds of shuffling coming from within.

“This is all so… weird.” John says, and if he were less charming it would be more awkward than it already was.

“I know.” She replies to his lame response, tone sympathetic.

She turns the handle to the door, revealing a simple room with walls painted navy, a bed, a dresser with a small model plane on it, and another door, leading to either a closet or a bathroom. “It’s small,” She starts, definitely awkwardly, “The room might change the more you live in it thought. Mine’s definitely a lot more chaotic than yours. Magic is weird like that.” She moves to the drawers, mop of black curls falling into her eyes as she peers into the contents of the top drawer.

“I’m sorry, did you just say magic?” He asks with an incredulous laugh, entering the small room and sitting down on the bed, feeling like all his energy has been sapped.

She stays uncomfortably silent for a moment; a moment so long John starts to think he might have to repeat himself. He shifts on the bed, crossing his ankles. She shuts the drawer, apparently satisfied with what she sees there. Brushing a careful finger over the model plane’s wing, she speaks softly as he looks at her with confusion. “Yeah, I did.” Then, abruptly, she spins on her heel, pointing at him and smiling with all her teeth. In a voice louder than the previous one, she continues, “You should try and take a nap. Dying takes a lot of energy out of you.”

“Wait we didn’t even talk about-“ She slams the door behind her as she leaves, like a whirlwind, and John finishes to himself, left staring at the closed door, “-the soulmates thing.” He feels annoyed, and a little offended, but then he realizes how nice the bed is, and how suddenly exhausted he feels. “Maybe just a small nap” is his last thought, as his head hits the pillow, and John Seed, dead and then alive again, is conscious no more.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real work of fanfiction. I'm sorry if the characters (and by that I mean John) are terribly OOC, I honestly only really know the Seeds from fanfiction (I'm not very good at FPS). Feel free to leave constructive criticism, or just comments about story elements. Maybe I just wanted to write John wearing a cable knit sweater.


End file.
